


The Kidnapping of Cullen Rutherford

by GoatBazaarofFics



Series: Keep Your Wits About You [4]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anders is done with both of them, Cullen Has Issues, F/M, Humor, Justice being Justice, M/M, Merrill being Merrill, Varric is probably lying, probably, unconventional inquisitor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-01-08 02:41:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12245484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoatBazaarofFics/pseuds/GoatBazaarofFics
Summary: “Alright, here’s a story. Broody, Rivaini, Choir Boy and myself got arrested, all of which were trump up charges by the way. So, it was up to Hawke, Daisy, and my favorite rebel mage, Blondie, to break us out of prison. Of course, nothing was never simple for our crew.”Varric recalls the time he was thrown in prison to the Herald and their companions.





	1. Let Me Weave a Tale

The fire roared and the stars gleamed overhead. Varric laid on the soft ground, kegs stretched, hands folded over his chest. He had grown to like nature. Oh, he’ll complain and bitch about a twig here, dirt there, but there was something about the Ferelden country side he admired. Maybe because the cities smelt of dog shit?

Across from his sit, sat Vivienne, prim and proper as if she was in her study and not on a log in the middle of nowhere. She was reading, what he didn’t know. He just knew the green light that bobbed around her head casted an earie glow around them.

The silence between them was companionable despite their disagreements and snide remarks. The Iron Lady was different than most mages he had known. Most talked non-stop, or were bitterly angry, sometimes both in the case of Hero of Fereldan. She was also very pro-circle. He would love to see an argument between her and Blondie. That would be entertaining. And deadly. Probably for him.

Actually, those two are not allowed to meet. Ever.

His quiet musings were interrupted by the loud chatter. Ah, The Herald and The Iron Bull have returned.

He sat up and stretched. He twisted about to greet his two friends. He didn’t get a chance to, however, The Herald got too close to the fire and it intensified.

“Fasta vass!” She swore and jumped back into the Iron Bull, startled by her own magic acting up. Vivienne stood up and simmered it back down with a swift wave. She turned to the Herald, her lips pursed.

“Varania, dear, you need to control yourself.” Her tone more condescending than understanding. And that is where Varric had his disagreements with her. Vivienne either doesn’t see how Varania deflates and almost cowers at her cool tones or doesn’t care. He shot her a glare then got up and went to the elf’s side.

“Hey, you will get hang of it,” he patted her on the back.

She didn’t pull away and snarl at Varric like her brother would have. Instead she tensed and balled her hands into fists. “I know I will, that is not a question that I won't. It is just hard to have so little magic for so long." She uncurled her left hand looked at the Anchor, "now I have all this power. It is harder than I thought. My former masters made magic look so easy."

“I say you forget about your magic,” Bull said. Varania looked up, confused where he was going. "And the bow and arrow you were using before.” He walked around to the other side of the fire and sat down with a thump. “Have me teach you how to use the sword. Far more fun.” He grinned and pulled out flask that smelt worse than the Hanged Man. "You just swing about and people die. Nothing else to it." He lifted it as if to cheer them and then drank half the contents in one gulp.

“I see how you train with Commander Cullen.” She eyed the Qunari wearily, “I believe I will stick to my lessons with Solas.”

“Bah,” he waved her off. “That limp noodle just can’t handle the Bull.”

“A wise decision, dear.” Vivienne sat back down. “A wiser choice would have me teach you as well. One of many benefits of The Circle was that we had multiple teachers.” She gave Varania a sweet smile, but to a former Tevinter slave, Varric had to guess it looked more dangerous than anything else.

Varania thinned her lips. “Perhaps,” was all she said. She pulled her staff off her back and sat down as well.

Varric followed suit. He looked up at her. “I’m guessing there weren’t any trouble.”

She shook her head. “No. We should be fine during the night.”

“And here’s hoping the rest of the way to Radcliff is smooth sailing.” Bull added.

Varric threw his hands up and sighed. “Great now you jinxed us, Tiny.”

“Oy, do I look like a mage? I didn’t jinx shit.” He then looked between Varania and Vivienne. “No offense, ladies.”

“Some taken,” Vivienne said with a slight shrug.

The Herald looked to the sky, and around the camp. “I know the reasonable thing to do would be to sleep now, but I do not feel tired.”

“I know what you mean, Herald,” Bull groaned. “We didn’t come across enough people who wanted to kill us today.”

Varric snapped his fingers, “how about a story.”

“Is this one of your made-up tales, or did this really happened?” Vivienne asked.

“I am sure it as true as Varric wishes it to be,” Varania deadpanned.

“Okay, first off, it really happened. You can ask Curly when we get back to Haven,” Varric added. “Second, you can’t tell Cassandra, because she will have my ass if she realizes I’ve been keeping this shit a secret.” Bull barked out a laugh, while the two women raised their eyebrows at him. He ignored them and cleared his throat. “So, it all started when three of my friends, one of them being your brother, and myself were arrested…”


	2. I’m Telling You, I was There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric begins his tale, and already there's some problems.

“Here, I have a gift from your lover.”

Fenris looked up from his bench. Aveline stood on the other side of the bars and held out a small sack. He got up, a bit off balance without the use of his one eye. He walked over to the woman and accepted the bag with his free hand; his other held an ice pack to his eye. It was surprisingly heavier than its size let on. Anders must have enchanted it.

“What’s in it?”

Aveline rolled her eyes. “What didn’t he put in there. Let me see. An ointment for your eye. Two vials of healing poultices. A stamina potion. Apples, sweet rolls, and dried meats. You know, just in case I let you starve. And…” she blushed, “and apparently he left a crude drawing of what is waiting for you once you’re out.”

The elf smiled down at the care package and cradled it to his chest as he went back to his seat. He opened the sack and it smelt of elfroot and apples and cinnamon. He dropped the ice pack next to him and pulled out the ointment first.

“Why does he get stuff while locked up?” Isabela asked. Her cell was cross from Fenris’s. She stood at the very edge clinging to the bars, pouting at the guardswoman.

“Because, whore,” Aveline snapped. “He isn’t screwing half of Kirkwall and is in a stable relationship.”

“So?” The pirate pouted even more.

“He’s also dating the only decent healer in town, Rivaini,” Varric Tethras was next to Isabela. He leaned against the wall that separated their cells. The great writer that he was, the clever dwarf knew he had to commit this incident to paper. “None of the guys or gals you sleep with are bleeding hearts like Blondie who'll drop everything to take care of his lover.”

“Ay, ‘tis is true.” Sebastian, his voice cheerier than it should be given their situation. “We shouldn’t expect anything less from our friend.” Choir Boy was across from the dashing storyteller and next to Fenris. 

It was probably unorthodox that the four criminals were imprisoned in the same holding area and in such proximity, but their friend was the Captain of the Guard. Even she had her biases.

“Well, if I am being honest,” Aveline said with a sigh. “I mainly took it from Anders because he was about to cry when I tried telling him no at first.”

Fenris lowered his head in shame. “This is my fault.” He ignored the _no shit_ from Varric. “I was trying to make him feel better after what happened last night, but when I saw Hawke…” he clutched at the bag and then he let go. He put it off to the side before he broke anything. He glanced up to Aveline. She stood there, her arms crossed and her face hard and emotionless. “I just snapped.” He admitted. Not that he needed too. Aveline was the one who pulled him off of Hawke.

Her expression softened. “I understand and empathize why you are angry at Hawke, Fenris, but that doesn’t give you the right to attack Hawke in the middle of the street! Maker’s breath, you nearly killed him!”

Fenris sprung out of his seat. “I am beyond feeling anger,” he began to pace. “For three years I could look pass his flaws. We had disagreements, but that is all they were. I thought over all he was decent man. A violent, pig-headed, brutish oaf who's an inept fool at best—

“Tell us how you really feel, Broody.”

—but a decent man.” Fenris continued. “However, what decent person betrays two allies in the Fade because they had to make a deal with a demon?” He shot vicious glare at Isabela, who was also guilty of the same crime. She did her best at ignoring the elf. “And after spending hours to calm Anders down and give him comfort, Justice shed light on Hawke’s mistreatment toward Anders. It's been going one for three years! He's made my lover feel uncomfortable and ruined his already low self-esteem, and faced no retribution for it!”

He practically shouted the last words. He was fuming, his brands flickered on and off.

“Hawke has always been aggressive,” Sebastian said in an attempt to defend Hawke, but it was half-hearted. 

“No, you don’t understand,” Fenris started, but he was cut off by the sound of heavy boots on stone floors. It sounded as if someone was running.

The sound came from the right end of the hallway. The four prisoners tried their best to peer around the bars, but it was difficult to do so.

The footsteps got closer, and dashing around the corner as Donnic, whom looked panicked.

He stopped at Varric and Sebastian’s cells. He bent over to catch his breath. Aveline moved to grip his shoulder, but he straightened up to quickly for her to do so. “Captain, we have trouble.”

“What kind?”

Donnic’s lips thinned and brows furrowed in worry. “I don’t know why, but a whole squad of Templars led by the Knight-Captain are on their way. I came to find you the second I saw them.”

“Shit.” The dwarf, pirate, and guardswoman all said in unison.

Fenris turned to face Isabela and they shared a mutual look of concern and confusion. Why would Templars come here? His best guess is that they know the four of them are friends with apostates. It’s the only explanation.

If that was the case...His heart began hammer as his mind raced with imagined horrors and possibilities. They would use him to get to Anders. Isabela and Varric to Merrill. Sebastian…was probably safe. At least one of them won’t be tortured for information.

“I don’t understand; why would they come to the Keep’s dungeons?” Sebastian asked.

“Fuck,” Varric ran his hand over his hair. The storyteller, so clever in his thinking, figured out why the Templars would be here of all places. “They’re here for Broody.”

“He isn’t a mage.” Aveline said. But when she turned toward Fenris, he could see the growing terror over her face. “Your brands!”

“What of them?” His mind was still on the possibility of something terrible happening to Anders that he missed whatever they were talking about.

Isabela understood what they were talking about. “You lit them up at the market! To any normal person, they would look like magic!”

Fenris took a sharp breath. “They think me a mage?”

“But,” Donnic glanced around at everyone, “don’t Templars know who is or isn’t a mage? They can't arrest Fenris.”

“This is true, they will leave once they see ye ain’t a mage.” Sebastian said it with more conviction than the guardsman.

“Oh, boy, I don’t know, Choir Boy.” The dwarf was the opened minded sort. He had drinking buddies with Templars like Thrask. Good, honest men and women who thought they were doing the Maker’s work. But there were Templars like Ser Karras or that fucker Alrik, zealots who think they can abuse mages because they can. “If they think Broody’s a mage, that won't stop them. Not in this city.”

“They will have to go through me.” Aveline said firmly. “You aren’t under their jurisdiction. They can take their paranoia and shove it up their ass.”

The pirate chewed her bottom lip. “If nothing else, we should stop them for their own safety.” Everyone looked at Isabela, or tried to in Varric’s case. She shrugged, “how well do you think Anders will take it if his boyfriend gets taken to the Gallows for a misunderstanding? Justice will call his own personal Annulment.”

Fenris swore in his native tongue at the possibility.

Donnic tilted his head to the side. “Who’s Justice.”

\---

“Stop!” Bull shouted. He stood up and waved his arms back and forth. “Stop, stop.”

Varric glared at the Qunari. “What?”

“Not a minute in your story, you’re already lying to us.” He put his hands on his hips.

“What are you talking about.”

“Varric, dear, we both read that novel of yours.” Varric’s attention snapped to Vivienne. She gave him a haughty look and sounded as if she was talking to a child. “The Herald’s brother, Fenris was it, and the apostate were never in a relationship.”

The dwarf’s eyes shifted about. “Okay, so that novel of mine wasn’t completely accurate.”

“That is understatement.” Varania said coolly. “What does she mean Le-Fenris and Anders weren’t together? They still are.”

 Both Vivienne and Bull slowly eyed the Herald. Then they shared a look, their eyes calculated and narrowed. “What do _you_ mean?” Bull asked

“I mean, they are married.” She answered, sounding very confused. She turned to Varric. He shuddered on similar her glare was to Fenris’s. “Venhedis, dwarf, what lies have you spun?” Now they sounded the same. Great. Just great. It was like Broody was still around.

“Okay, don’t you ever call me dwarf. You’re giving me flashbacks," he pointed at her. He then looked between their two other companions. “And Fenris and Anders have been in a relationship for seven years. I kinda, maybe, sorta, didn’t write that in because I figured the Chantry would go after Fenris and find out Blondie was alive.”

The Iron Lady puckered her lips. She was barely keeping her anger in check. “So, the apostate who blew up Kirkwall’s Chantry is alive and well. And,” her voiced dropped to a bitter and resentful tone, “by the sounds of it, is awarded with a doting and loving husband despite his crimes."

Varania glared at her for use of the word award in reference to her brother, but she doesn’t mention it, “I don’t understand why you believe Anders is dead.”

“Well, you see Herald our _dashing_ _storyteller,”_ Bull said, “made a claim that Anders guy is dead and when he was executed, the first person to advocate for his death was your brother. To find out otherwise is a _bit_ shocking. Just a bit. Explains why we can’t tell Cassandra.”

Varania’s head snapped toward Varric. “Fenris would never! How could you write such a thing?”

He sighed in expiration. How many times did he have to explain it? “I was trying to protect my friends.” Vivienne scoffed, but he ignored her. “Can I get back to my story?” After a moment, they nodded their heads and Bull sat back down. “Thank you.”


	3. Now, Where Was I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grand Cleric is paranoid, Aveline shuts Cullen down, and Varric realizes he's playing The Game.

Isabela gripped the bars of her cell. “We can’t let them take Fenris for their own safety.” Everyone, except for Varric, turned to look at the pirate. She quirked her shoulders upward. “How well do you think Anders will react if Templars took Fenris to the Gallows all because they thought he was a mage? Justice will Annul the Chantry population.”

“Fasta Vass!” Fenris swore, “I did not think of that being a possibility.”

Donnic tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brows. “Who is Justice?” he asked.

The four inmates and Aveline nervously glanced at each other but were saved from answering the question the sound of synchronized marching bombarded their senses. Rounding the same corner, a ten Templars came into view. Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford led the way. He was the only one of his men who didn’t wear an armor.

Aveline didn’t let the man come to a halt before she met him halfway. “What is this meaning of this, Knight-Captain?” Fenris peered around the bars as best as he could. Her hands were firmly on her hips and it was clear she had a slight height advantage.

Cullen paused, surprised by her bluntness. “Good day to you too, Captain Aveline,” he said after a moment. He passed the guardswoman and led his men to the cells.

Fenris’s breath caught in his throat and his heart hammered. A thousand things ran through his head as Cullen approached them. Each scenario worse and more outrageous than the last.

The Templar stopped at Sebastian’s cell, however. He was flanked by two others, while two more stopped stood at Fenris and Isabela’s cells. Up close, Fenris saw the tightness in Cullen’s jaw. The stiffness in his shoulders. The way he balled his hands into fists. “Brother Sebastian,” his voice didn’t express his agitation, “my men and I were sent here by the Grand Cleric to protect you.”

“What?” Both Sebastian and Aveline exclaimed at the same time.

The guardswoman pushed through the now crowded hallway. “Why would the Grand Cleric send you here to guard him?"

"That is none of your concern, Captain." Cullen said calmly, "This is officially Templar business.  

"None of my concern? I demand to know what is going on.”

“Keep your smalls on, lady,” the Templar on Cullen’s right said. He removed his helmet to reveal Ser Karras. Fenris stopped himself from growling. This man led several raids on Anders’s clinic in the past and there are several rumors he forced himself on mages. The elf desperately wanted to  

Aveline’s nostril flared in anger. “Watch yourself, Karras,” she said.

Cullen shot a warning glare at the Lieutenant and faced the irate woman. “Alright, I suppose there is no reason to keep it from you. The Grand Cleric fears mages will attempt to kidnap Brother Sebastian. She did not wish to undermine your authority by requesting his release. Instead, she sent us here to guard him.”

“Has the woman lost her damned mind?” Aveline yelled, and added, “no offense, Sebastian,” her eyes flickered to the man behind bars.

“None was taken. This beyond irrational,” Sebastian said. “Why she does fear mages will target me of all people?”

Karras leaned against the brick wall that separated the two cells, blocking Fenris’s view of Aveline and Cullen. The elf moved back so he could at least keep eye contact with Varric.

“She thinks the leader of the Mage Underground will see this as an opportunity and use you against her,” he answered, "so she pulled the best of us off the fucking street to watch your ass."

“It’s a bunch of horse shit.” Fenris snapped his attention to the Templar who stood on the other side of his cell. She sounded like she chewed gravel for a past time.

“Ser Kathleen…” Cullen warned.

“I’m sorry, Captain, but this is a waste of our time. The Darktown Healer murdered an entire patrol three weeks ago. The bastard used his filthy blood magic to crush the hearts of five men!" she spat out. Fenris didn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt protecting Anders. “He's an unhinged lunatic who preaches to Darktowners about the good of magic. Mother Petrice might think the Qunari is our biggest concern, but it isn't. We should be hunting the robe down and put his head on a pike as an example for the rest of the freak-shows!” He glanced at Isabela. Her eyes harden and her lips thinned. She gave the slightest of nods, which he returned. His eyes flickered to Varric and they shared the same exchange. When they escape, they’ll kill this Templar first. “Instead,” the woman continued, “we’re _babysitting_ the Prince of Starkhaven while he’s in jail.”

“I do not need to be watched as if I was a wee lad,” Sebastian argued.

"Of course, not. That is why you were arrested." Cullen said snarked, then he remembered his station and changed his tune. “Knight, I understand your anger, but this is not the time or place.” 

“Agreed,” Aveline growled and Fenris could imagine the checked fury on her face. The two didn't get along, but Aveline was protective of Anders just like she was with every else in their group. “I want to know why Elthina believes Templars are needed to watch Sebastian. If she is fearful for his life, my men are perfectly capable of protecting him from any threat.”

“Not against mages,” Cullen corrected, “even the supposed healers do not shy away from blood magic.”

“I have battled blood mages, Knight-Captain,” Aveline tried to reasoned with him. “Slavers from Tevinter. Fanatical apostates. That elven girl who stole the Qunari poison. I have fought them all, and I came out very much alive and well.”

“More like battled alongside mages,” Fenris heard the sneer on Karras’s lips. “We all know you work with that asshole Garrett Hawke and we all know he has at least two mages in his inner circle. There is no way we can trust you with a mage problem.”

“Lieutenant,” Cullen said, exasperated. “There is no evidence that any of Hawke’s companions are mages, but,” there was a shift of metal, indicating he moved. “he has a point. Your reign as captain has been less than desirable.”

“Excuse you?” Aveline’s voice was low and deadly.

“Now, Captain…” Cullen started once he realized his mistake, but that only set Aveline off into a tirade.

“Shut your damn mouth, Cullen!” Aveline snapped. “You come to my territory as if you own the place without a single notice. Not even street urchin and a note. Instead, you barge through, claiming that you have permission from the Grand Cleric herself. You insult my friends and act as if you know any of them. You throw accusations of blood magic against someone who’s helping the poor when the Chantry has turned a blind eye. You ignore my experience facing real blood mages. And not some imagined bogeymen you lot dream up while you sit on your asses in your ivory tower, but _actual_ blood mages. Or did you forget that I helped Hawke solved _your_ problems three years ago, _Knight-Captain_?” Aveline sneered. “And now you have the fucking gall to attack my time as Captain of the Guard to my face?” She practically screamed the last sentence.

Fenris was stunned. So was Isabela and Varric, judging by their wide eyes and slacked-jaws. Most likely Sebastian was too. They never heard the woman so enraged before. Nor insult the Templar order either. If Anders was here, and thank the Maker he wasn't, he would have died of shock. Fenris had to remember to tell Justice. The spirit admired Aveline, it boarded on a crush, and his admiration will grow knowing she told a Templar to shut up. 

What followed from Aveline’s rant was silence. No one moved. No one even dared to breathe. Even Varric, who knew this moment should be transcribed, did not rush for a pencil and paper.

Finally, after a moment, Cullen spoke up. “My men and I will be stationed here until Sebastian Vael has been released. If you have any complaints, please take your complaints up with the Grand Cleric.”

“Trust me, I will.” Aveline stormed off, with Donnic on her heels. 

\---

His three friends stared at Varric with stunned expressions.

“The Grand Cleric wasted precious recourses and Templar time to watch Prince Vael?” Vivienne asked, incredulous by the situation.

“Yeah,” Varric rubbed his head, “I kept that one to myself. I held back on plenty of her damn mistakes when I wrote my book. Bad enough I was part of the Mage uprising in Kirkwall, I can’t defame a dead woman too.”

“Unbelievable,” Varania breathed, “and not just about the Grand Cleric. The Templars in Kirkwall were incompetent best, at worst, they sound cruel and fanatical. It is wonder the mages in the Gallows did not revolt sooner.” To Varric’s shock, Vivienne nodded her head.

“True, dear, the Gallows was truly the worse Circle,” the Iron Lady agreed. “Not even I can justify what happened.”

The Herald turned to face the woman next to her, her bangs flew around her. “How could anyone?” she asked. “The Templars could not even be bothered to do their job. Instead Garrett Hawke and this Guard Captain had to do it for them.”

“Happened several times, Herald,” Varric said. “I was right there with them. Meredith ran Hawke through the ground with the amount of shit she had him do those last couple of years.” Something flashed in her almond-shaped eyes and the corner of her lips fell. He paused for a moment and thought of the effect his story had on the Herald. For several weeks now, everyone has been using Varania's former slave status to turn her against mages. It worked, sort of, but she resisted for the most part.  But here, she is receptive to what he's saying. 

He intentionally lowered his voice to contemplative sigh and chose his next words carefully. “The crazy thing is, she saw blood mages when there was none, but turned the other cheek when it came slavers.” She glowered and gripped at her robes.

Varric covered his mouth his hand to hide his smirk. When they meet with Fiona tomorrow, he might not have to try so hard to convince Varania to at least listen to the rebels. It was wrong to manipulate her like this, he knew. It was no different to when Cullen told her the rebel mages wish to establish a new Tevinter. He would feel guilty later, for now, he will just level the playing field to give the mages a fighting chance. Not as fancy as a bomb, but that wasn't his style. 

“I’m curious about the story behind the Templars with missing hearts,” Bull cut in, “guessing that wasn’t your blond apostate?”

“Ancestors, no,” Varric chuckled briefly, but grew serious. “There was a nasty raid on Blondie’s clinic. The Templars chased him all around the Undercity. He almost got caught down there, but he fought hard and killed quite of few in the process. Made his way to Broody’s wine cellar only to get caught again and well, Broody is _violently_ protective over his mage.”

Tiny whistled. “A mage who can defend himself without magic. That’s rare. I’m glad they don’t pull shit in Tevinter. Vints fight hard as is.”

“I can use the bow and arrow,” Varania said.

“I said it was rare, not unheard of. ‘Sides, you’re an exception,” he waved her off. He turned back to Varric, “where did he learn to fight and fight well enough to take on several well-armored men and women?”

"The Wardens,” Varric answered, “The Hero of Fereldan made sure all of his mages knew self-defense. Told me he spent his entire life in the Circle defenseless, didn’t want any of his mages to feel that way too.”

Vivienne scoffed. “Oh, please. Alim Surana wasn’t defenseless. If he knew how to play The Game, he would have been just fine. He chose to be defenseless”

An unexpected anger assaulted the dwarf. He leaned forward and glared at the woman through the flames of their campfire. “And pray tell, Madame de Fer, how does an _elf_ play The Game?”

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it shut once she realized she had no argument.

“Elves were treated differently in the Circle?” Varania asked, but she quickly added. “Of course, they were. Why did I think otherwise?” Her ears drooped visibly. 

“I can’t give you a solid answer on that one, Herald,” Varric sat straighter, “but Fiona is an elf and former Circle mage. She could give you a better insight.”

“I will ask her when I meet with her tomorrow,” she said with absolute conviction.

At the Herald’s words, something sparked in Vivienne’s eyes. She tilted her head to the side and gave Varric a calculated look. He raised one questioning eyebrow and she knew what he was doing. He flashed a quick smile to tell her, yes, they were playing a game that she was unaware of.

And she lost.

“What happened next?” Bull pulled Varric’s attention. The Iron Bull was an intelligent man. His eyes darted to the mage on his left and the dwarf on his right. He knew something just transpired between the two; the what, he will find out tomorrow.

“You see, the problem is that nothing happened for several hours. At least on my end of the story, but with Anders, Hawke, and Merrill? A lot occurred.”

“Ah, and you weren’t there for that.”

“No,” he looked at his gloved covered fingers, “but Blondie told me. And that’s the problem.”

“Varric, dear, you should not surround yourself with liars,” chided Vivienne.

“He isn’t a liar. The spirit possessing him can’t physically lie, so he can't lie. It’s just…he can be mildly melodramatic,” an understatement, “and the facts might get skewed when he’s involved." Also an understatement. 

Bull smirked. “So, what you’re saying this part of the story is the most honest part then.”

Varric flipped the Qunari off causing the other man to chuckle. “I will admit this now before I start, mostly because I don't want any more interruptions. My, uh, depiction of Justice in my novel wasn’t accurate.”

“Justice is the spirit that possesses Anders, correct?” Varania asked.

“Yeah, you met him briefly,” Varric answered, “but there is something you probably don’t know. I know you two don’t have a clue," he waves a hand at his companions, "Anders’s relationship with Justice is friendlier than how I wrote it.”

Bull scratched his head. “Friendlier how?”

“Romantic kind of friendly.”

“He’s in a romantic relationship with the demon that possesses him?” Vivienne asked.

“Spirit.” Varric corrected firmly. “And yeah.”

“What about my brother?" Varania asked slowly, unsure if she wanted to know. 

“He’s in a relationship with Justice too.” Varric shrugged dismissively, “trust me, it's the weirdest shit I've ever seen. Now, that’s out of a way, where was I? Oh, right. Blondie has some serious depression and self-esteem issues. He went home and blamed himself for Fenris’s arrest…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All hyperbolic rhetoric coming from Templars may or may not be an exaggeration on Varric's part.


	4. A Second-Hand Account

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric takes ( some ) liberties with history and Anders is done with Hawke's bullshit. 
> 
> For now.

Anders buried his face into Fenris’s pillow. He hadn’t moved from their bed since he came home. He had no motivation to do anything else. If it weren’t for Justice encouraging him to make the care package for Fenris or retreating his new coat and staff from Varric’s suite, he wouldn’t have done either

Times like these, he would use his mother’s for comfort, but he wanted to be close to his lover. It wasn’t fair. They had only been together for short while after spending several months dancing around each other. Since from the very beginning there had been snags in their relationship. There was business with that bitch Hadriana. Templar raids on his clinic. All their friends, except for the astute and handsome dwarf, questioning their relationship. Their fights about Hawke, oh, how Anders was wrong about Hawke. Not even their first night together was as perfect as he thought it was. Fenris confessed the night caused him to have flashbacks, both good and bad.

Now, Fenris was in prison for however long Aveline deemed necessary.

All because of him.

If Anders would have listened to Fenris’s warnings about Hawke sooner, he wouldn’t have gone into the Fade when the rogue asked. He wouldn’t have been betrayed. Justice wouldn’t have been stab. Fenris would be here, not locked in a cage in a dark cell.

A small sob escaped Anders throat and he hugged the pillow tighter. He couldn’t fathom how Fenris was handling it, what awful memories his lover was reliving in the Keep’s Dungeons. Aveline was a fair woman, but not fair enough to keep their friends together. She didn’t know the punishments Danarius levied out to Fenris. 

Anders’s horrid mood wasn’t just about what happened this morning at the market, or last night. There was a new Tranquil in the Gallows courtyard today because of Hawke’s actions.

The sudden reminder of Feynriel’s fate caused him to break down once more.

Justice hated when Anders was distressed. He inched his way forward and slipped into Anders’s arm and took control. He brushed his host’s hair with his hand.

The loss of his arm didn’t startle Anders as it should, he was used to it by now. He tilted his head so he could look at his—no, Justice’s hand. He clasped it with the one he still controlled and locked their fingers together. He brought it to his lips and he kissed one of the blue streaks.

They both sighed and Anders calmed down. Anders closed his eyes briefly. The blue light seeped through his eyelids.

 _Sleep, Anders,_ came a voice _, I have you._ It said. Anders wondered where it came from. It was not one he recognized, but knew. It didn’t come from a memory he forgotten. It something primal, etched onto his heart 

His eyes flew opened. “Justice?”

_…Anders?_

“Uh….” Anders stared dumbfounded at his glowing arm.

_You can understand me?_

“Yes!” Anders sprung upward, his heart racing. 

 _This is wonderful!_ His and Justice’s happiness mixed together, but he also _heard_ it in Justice’s voice. Wonderful was inadequate. There was no word to describe how amazing this was. They could talk to each other finally, after years of miscommunication. No more relying on vague images or feelings. They could speak! 

“Maker’s breath!” Anders let out a shaky breath. He laughed. "Justice, I can't believe we're talking!" 

_This is unexpected, but not unwanted!_

"You can say that again!" He said, grinning madly.  

 _Alright. This is unexpected, but not unwanted._ The spirit's voice was less excited. 

"No, no," Anders shook his head and laughed again. "It's an expression. I'm not complaining, but why now? After all these years?”

 _Does it matter? We can speak and there are other matters to attend too._ Anders pinched the bridge of his nose. So like Justice to jump head first into a project. _Of course, I cannot stand still and allow Sloth to take me._ “But I…” he trailed off when Justice supplied him images of their lover in a tiny cell. Alone. In the dark. He gasped “Fenris!"

_We must free him! He should not be punished because he defended your honor. He was **Just!**_

With a boost of energy from his spirit, Anders jumped off the bed and grabbed his clothes off the floor. He put them on as he rushed through their mansion and out the door. He went to the only person who could help him:

Hawke.

\---

“What convenient timing for Anders and the _spirit_ to be able to talk to each other,” Vivienne said smoothly.

“Alright, I will admit I made that part up,” Varric held up his hands when she raised an eyebrow at him. “Sort of. I don’t know when they started to communicate, but it happened around this incident. So, it probably happened.” Varric added.

“Do you know how?” Varania asked.

Varric looked at her. “How what?”

“Did Anders ever tell you how they were able to communicate?” She clarified.

The dwarf thought how he should answer her question. “He wasn’t specific. Something about your brother’s tattoos helped them out.” It was a damn lie. Blondie was very specific, almost graphic, on the how and Varania didn’t know need to know the specifics.

She smiled brightly, “I am happy Leto was able to turn Master Danarius’s cruel gift into a positive.” Varric fought the urge to cringe at how she said _Master_. It was too similar how Vivienne said the word _Templar_. At least Varania never sang the asshole’s praises.

“Broody knows how to make a bad situation good,” Varric said. "Unlike Blondie, who just makes bad situations worse. Most of the time it's on accident. Like the poor bastard just stumbles into trouble." In the corner of his eye he saw Bull raise his hand.

“Yo, I got a question before you go on,” Tiny said. He leaned forward, arm resting on his leg, shit-eating-grin on his lips. “If you don’t know anything about Anders able to talk to his spirit lover, then why did you include it in your story? Oh, and is it normal for him to casually think how handsome you are while feeling down?”

Varric didn't respond to the Qunari's critiques. Instead, he continued on with  Blondie’s side of the tale.

\---

Anders stood outside Hawke’s mansion. The sun was setting and he hated himself for wasting so much time wallowing in self-pity, but he was here now. He took a deep breath and knocked.

He stood there several moments and contemplated if he should knock again, but he didn’t want to bother anyone.

But he didn’t have to. Soon the door was opened by Bodan. “I apologize, we just sat down for dinner and The Lady of the House was …” the old dwarf’s words trailed off as he stared up at Anders. He coughed and smiled. “Why, Serah Anders, I see you got a new coat.”

The mage brightened. “Yes, I did! Do you like it?” He lifted the corners and gave the man a slight curtsy.

“Yes,” he answered after a moment. “The orange and red feathers just…they look nice. They’re my boy’s favorite colors. Why don’t you come in?”

Anders grinned and thanked Bodan as the dwarf led him to the fire place. Hawke’s Mabari, Cailan, stood up from his spot and wagged his tail. Anders reached to give the dog a scratch behind his ears, but Justice stopped him.

_Anders, we cannot support slavery!_

“It’s not slavery, you dolt.”

“Excuse me?”

Anders’s snapped his head to Bodan. “Oh, I, uh, was just muttering to myself.” He gave a nervous laugh.

Bodan eyed the mage slowly. “Yes, of course. I will go retrieve the Messere Hawke.”

“Right. Thank you.”  He watched the dwarf go and turned to face the fireplace when he left. The flames danced and twirled. He leaned forward with his hand and plucked a flame. He rolled the fire in-between his fingers as others would a coin.

“Anders.”

He looked up to see Hawke. At his side, Merrill hovered behind him. She gave Anders a fierce glare and in returned, he gave her a frown. Did she think he was here to hurt Hawke further? Fenris did enough. The rogue’s face was badly bruised. The scar across his nose was now covered by white strips. He favored his left side.

Anders had so much to say to the both of them. Hawke, for his betrayal. What he done to Feynriel. His hateful words toward Justice. The years of mockery and dismissal. How he played with his emotions for an entire year. And Merrill? How did she feel to know her demon obsession led to a fellow mage made Tranquil? She’s the one who convinced Hawke demons and spirits were one and the same. Yes, he has a lot to say to the both of them.

But those words for another day. He felt sick looking at them and wishes he could ignore them for the rest of his life, but he needed them too much to burn that bride.

He dismissed the flame with a wave of his hand and skipped the pleasantries. “I’m going to break the others out of prison and you two are going to help me.”


	5. A Templar Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being interrupted three times, Varric continues his story in peace. 
> 
> And poor Cullen Rutherford isn't having a fun time.

Cullen paced his quarters. He wasn’t looking forward to going back to Viscount’s Keep. Not after what happened this morning.  He shuddered at remembering Aveline Vallen’s wrath.

But as much as he would like to hide in the Gallows, he had a job to do. And besides, he chose the night shift for a reason. The chances of running into Aveline were slim. He got dressed in his armor and made his way through the tower’s halls and down the winding stairs.

It was sundown by the time he’s in the courtyard and everyone was packing up and moving inside. The Tranquil were ushered in like sheep by Ser Thrask. They give a quick nod to each other. The few mages allowed outside, one of them being Bethany Hawke, kept their heads low as he walked passed.

He stopped at the pier and despite being here for four years, Cullen still expected to see Kester, the ferryman who worked at Calenhad Docks. Instead, he’s greeted by several different men and women, most of whom he didn’t know by name.

The ride to the mainland was long and tedious. Some days, he wished the Gallows was built inside the town. He didn’t have this problem back home. Kinloch was so far removed from civilization, it was hard to know what he was missing.

To distract himself, he started a conversation with the ferryman, Franke. And an older man whose main source of income was shoe-cobbler. Cullen found it odd a man who specializes in shoemaking would also row boats for the Gallows. He also asked questions that made the Templar uncomfortable too. What kind of training Templars went through. About why mages were locked up. What was the worst thing Cullen seen a mage do and why did that justify locking them all up. When he mentioned phylacteries, and wondered how they were made, Cullen decided he needed to look into Franke’s life.

There was no need for a mage sympathizer working for the Gallows.

He was happy when he left the boat for Hightown’s ground. But at the same time, he felt off. There was something wrong in the air. As if someone watched him from the shadows. From the rooftops. From the unlit alleys. It wasn’t far walk from Viscount’s Keep, but he couldn’t shake his paranoia.

He walked fast. He wished he left sooner when it was still daylight time. There was no one the streets. Only thugs and gang members, like the Carta or Corte. His sword hand twitched. He wanted to draw his weapon so badly, but that would draw attention onto him. So he kept his hand still.

He would push down on his growing fears and focus on getting to the Keep. There is nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. He wasn’t being followed. No one was going to attack him. He was fine. Everything was fine—

Something flashed out the corner of his eye. He stopped and looked down an alleyway. He gulped. There was nothing but blackness. Pitched, dark blackness. It was unnatural how the light came to a sudden stop when no doubt the alley went further.

Magic.

He drew his sword and pulled out his shield. He stepped closer to the blanket of darkness. He crept closer, inch by inch, but jumped back quickly.

There was a vague outline of a shadow that hovered in the dark. It was small and petite. He could even see the faint of pointy ears of an elf.

But it was the glowing, green eyes and the bright smile that scared him. He raised his sword, ready to charge through the mist to cut the mage down when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He spun around and met a fist. An explosion of pain erupted over his face. His lip busted open from something sharp. He stumbled backward, and fell into the dark.

 

“Where in the Void is the Knight-Captain?” Ser Kathleen asked. Her shift was supposed to end an hour ago and Cullen was to take her place. “I had plans tonight.”

“Relax, Knight,” Karras said. He leaned against the wall between the cells of Brother Sebastian and the elf’s. “I’m sure he had a good reason to not be here. Like, maybe he fell into the sea and drowned, but I couldn’t be that lucky.”

“Not a big fan of your captain, Lieutenant?” the dwarf, Varric, asked. He sat on his bench and scribbled notes down in a journal. In Karras’s opinion, Guard-Captain Aveline should have taken both away from the talkative dwarf. He was a rogue after all, and their kind could use anything to pick locks.

Ser Kathleen snorted, and she answered for Karras. “Several of us don’t, at least us with sense. Most like him because he’s nice and they forget he didn’t earn his position. He just got it because Meredith admired the fact he survived Kinloch Hold when others didn’t. He also shares her views on magic, which is stupid, because most of us do.”

“She appointed him over me, so yeah,” Karras continued, “I don’t like him.”

“So, its petty jealousy then?” The pirate asked, but it seemed to know the answer. She too sat on her bench, but she picked at her nails.

He scoffed. “Hardly petty,” he pushed himself up and stalked to her cell. “Let me tell you his history in the order. While I worked my ass off hunting down dangerous mages, that bastard spent five years in training. Why five years, you wonder? I’ll tell you; he once helped a mage escaped because he felt bad for him. Said that he was grossly mistreated or something. Then, after nearly fucking up his chances, he spouts more pro-mage nonsense about what really makes an abomination and how could he tell if someone really was one or not.”

After he was done talking, she looked up and said, “I don’t really care,” with a bored tone to match her expression.

He sneered at her and began to retort when the elf spoke up. “What did he meant by ‘grossly mistreated’ or did he not tell you?”

Karras clenched his jaw. He tried his best to ignore the elf this entire time. So, did Kathleen, who didn’t walk in front of the elf. It was hard to, however, when his lyrium tattoos called out them. But he answered the elf despite wanting nothing to do with him. He turned around to see the elf leaning against the cell. His arms dangled and hang outside the bars. His swollen eye had gone down from this morning, but it still looked nasty.

“Oh, he told us. Apparently, this mage escaped so many times they had to lock him up in their dungeons for a year. He was nearly starved, and delusional. Kept calling for a cat that didn’t exist,” he rubbed his chin to remember what Cullen told him. “It turned out it was a Rage Demon who ended up killing three Templars.”

While focusing on his memories, Karras missed the horror in the elf and Brother Sebastian’s eyes. “Dear Maker,” the Brother whispered. 

“Dear Maker indeed, Rage Demons are a pain in the ass,” Kathleen said, and Karras couldn’t agree more. He hated it when a mage summoned one of those.

“Uh, no, I think my friend here was horrified by someone stuck in a dark, dank cell for a year,” Varric corrected and Sebastian nodded.

Karras rolled eyes. “Look, this mage, according to the Knight-Captain, was a troublemaker.” He moved in front of the dwarf’s cell. “He got lucky. If he were sent here, the Knight-Commander would have beaten his rebellious nature out of him.”

“I find that doubtful, Lieutenant.”

Everyone snapped their head to the right and the pirate let out a terrified gasp. Knight-Captain Cullen stood at the opening of the cellblock. And it wasn’t alone. He held a tight grip on a Dalish woman’s shoulder, who bounced on the balls of her feet. With her pristine white armor and cheerful demeanor, she was out of place in the Viscount’s dungeons. Yet, her hands are cuffed behind her back.

Karras narrowed his eyes. While not uncommon, it was rare to see Cullen in his helmet. “Who is this?” He nodded at the woman.

“This is the reason why I’m late,” he answered.

“I was trying to break my friends out,” she confessed with a grin, “I tried very hard to be sneaky, but he caught me. He was very cross.” Karras blinked. This woman couldn't be real.

“I asked the guards what to do with her, and they told me to bring her down here,” Cullen gently led her down the end of the block.

“Hello, Varric, Sebastian, Isabela. I would wave, but I’m under arrest.” They were all on their feet and at the edge of their cells. She got to the lyrium elf, and glared at him and hissed, “I’m not speaking to you, _len’alas lath’din_.” Karras had no idea what she said, but by the other elf’s angry expression, it must of have been an insult. “Not after what you did to Garrett,” she continued.

The elf gripped the bars at Hawke’s name. “He’s lucky I didn’t do worse,” he growled.

“And you’re lucky I don’t do anything to _you_ ,” she fired right back at him. She turns her head away to look up at the Templar, “can I share a cell with my friend Izzy?”

“No,” Cullen answered, his tone harsher than expected, “this isn’t a sleepover.” He opened a cell next to the pirate and shoved the Dalish in.

“Watch it!” The woman snapped. “You better have not hurt her.” Her tone was low and dangerous.

“Oh, I’m unharmed! No need to worry.” The Dalish woman tried to soothe her friend.

“Well, now you’re here Captain, I can finally take my leave,” Kathleen said.

Karras looked her up and down. “Hot date?”

“Please,” she waved him off, “I going back out there to look for the Darktown Healer.”

“Ah, yes,” Cullen pointed at her. “That’s another reason why I was late. I ran into an informant who told me the Healer was down at the Docks. You might be able to catch if you hurry.”

The woman’s eyes widen. She nodded her head and dashed out of there, leaving Karras with five prisoners and the bastard who stole his position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention Merrill called Fenris a 'dirty child no one loves' in Dalish.
> 
> Harsh, but Fenris did beat the ever living crap out of Hawke, so its justified.


End file.
